The 53rd Hunger Games
by jasonwilde
Summary: The 53rd Hunger Games takes place in a shopping mall. People will die, but at least there will be air conditioning.
1. Chapter 1

I can't stop my shaky breaths as they rip out of my body. I try to calm myself, to focus on what's in front of me, but now everything is spinning around me. I shake my head, but the spinning gets worse. I glance over my shoulder, the sounds of the bloodbath echo back at me. _It's OK, you got out before they got you._ The thought comforts me and the spinning starts to subside. For now.

I need to keep moving. I glance up and down the corridor and start jogging in the direction that leads away from the sounds of slaughter behind me, glancing over my shoulder every other second to make sure I wasn't being followed.

Brian and I had been told by Liza that the arena could take any form, but every Games I had ever seen had taken place somewhere in nature. A desert, a jungle, one year they did it in what I guess would be described as "tundra" (although that year hadn't been as exciting as over half the contestants died of exposure). I had never heard of it taking place in somewhere as man-made as a mall, something I've only ever seen on television.

The corridor I'm running down ends and forks in two directions. I choose right and kept moving, faster now, scanning the stores I pass for something that might be useful. We don't have buildings like this in District 12, and I doubt the other contestant have ever seen a place like this either. Maybe 1, 2, or 4, but even that's doubtful. No, this arena is entirely for the viewing audience in the Capitol. Only they have enough shit to require a hundred different stores to sell it and, on top of that, an entire building to keep all the stores in.

Some of the stores I pass don't even make sense to me. One looks like it sells everything entirely in red and white. Another sells only pretzels. Another is packed with what looks like thousands of bottles of lotion. Still others sell food and clothes and really anything you would ever need. I'm glad I skipped the bloodbath. There's enough supplies here to keep me alive for years, but the one store I'm actively looking for I don't see anywhere. I need to find a weapon.

I slow down to a walk, breathing heavily again. I was not incredibly active back in District 12. The other kids at school had called me a nerd and I embraced it. I do like to read and learn. But running? Exercise? No. My parents had never pushed me to go out and play with the other kids and I was fine with it. But once my name was drawn, I instantly regretted it. I'm not fat-nobody in District 12 is-but my lungs are burning and I've barely been on the move for ten minutes.

I should be far enough away for now. I need to concentrate on finding a weapon. One store pops out at me. Dick's Sporting Goods sounds promising. I enter the store carefully even though there's no way anyone has gotten this far yet without me seeing them. It's brightly lit and catchy pop music plays softly over the speakers. I instantly know I've hit the jackpot. Baseball bats and hockey sticks line the walls. Something that looks like staves are in another corner. On closer inspection they're surrounded by boxing gloves, mouth guards, and nun chucks. Then I see what's on the back wall: hunting equipment. It's mostly bows and arrows, but on the highest shelf, about twenty feet out of reach, is a hunting rifle with a scope.

I need to find a way to reach it without breaking my neck, but first I need to make sure I won't get murdered trying to get it. I head back to the front of the store, dodging racks of workout clothes and running shoes. There's no signs of life at the door. I listen of a couple minutes, but don't hear anything. I'm good for now.

On my way back to the rifle, I stop at the first display I saw and examine the baseball bats. I never played any sports in District 12. I think I once kicked a ball around with some friends, but that's about it. I have never even seen bat before, but I'm guessing it's not a complicated concept. Hold the skinny end. Swing. Kill. Sounds simple enough. I pick a silver one that looks about my size and pull it off the shelf. Or at least try to pull it off. It won't budge. I grab it with both hands and pull as hard as I can, but it doesn't budge. Fuck. I feel myself start to panic again. I try to grab another bat, this one large and red. It won't leave it's place either. I run to another display and try to grab a pair of shoes. It's like it's glued in place.

I sink down to a sitting position and stare in horror at the objects around me. These things could save my life, but they can't be moved. Everything I would ever need in the Games was close enough to touch, but, in the end, utterly useless. I feel tears start to blur my vision, but I shake them off. This is not the time for crying. I've wasted way too much time here. I need to go, to find something I can actually use to help myself.

I reach up to pull myself to my feet when I feel something give way under my hand. An automated voice comes over the speakers, interrupting the music. _Running shoes. Cost: 2 tokens._ Before my eyes, a slot shoot out of the display, waiting for me to enter my payment. I look closer at what I touched and finally see what I had been missing in my rush: small buttons accompany every item in the store. I push another by a sweatshirt. The automated voice sounds again. _Running jacket. Cost: 2 tokens._

I run back to the baseball bat and hurriedly press its button. _Baseball bat. Cost: 10 tokens._ So there wasn't one set price. I guess it has to do with how valuable the Gamemakers think each object is. And what are the tokens? I quickly search the jeans they gave us and then the pockets of the light hoodie. I find one. It's small, not much bigger than a quarter. I'm not surprised I didn't notice it before.

The coin is a bright gold color. On one side is a profile picture of President Snow and on the back, the number fifty-three, for the fifty-third year of the Games. I'm happy to have figured it out, but now what? I need another just to buy a pair of shoes. What could only one buy me? How do I get more? I have too many questions... But then I have no questions because I hear someone laugh and all I can think is _oh shit_.

"His head just fucking exploded. I thought that only happened in movies and shit." I can't see the speaker yet, so I still have some time. I get down on my knees as quietly as possible and crawl behind the closest cover, a large bin filled with basketballs. Maybe they won't come in here. But my luck isn't that good. "Oh look, sporting goods. There's probably some good shit in here." Another voice answers him more quietly.

I press my back against the basketballs and pray to any god I can think of. They're getting closer, but, on the bright side, they definitely don't know I'm here. I could surprise them and...what? Throw balls at them? Actually, no, I can't even do that because who knows how many of these goddamn coins they cost. I want to scream in frustration.

"You should probably be a little quieter." It's a girl's voice. I hold my breath and peek around the edge of my hiding spot. It's the tributes from District 7. They're both powerfully built, probably from chopping wood since before they could walk. The boy has what looks like a pipe that's been broken in half. It has blood on one edge. The other doesn't look like she's armed, but I can't get that good a look before they're gone, heading deeper into the store. I wait, knowing what's coming. When I hear them exclaim over the gun I get up as quickly and quietly as possible and head for the door.

My foot catches on the metal edge of basketball case and I trip. I try to catch myself and grab out wildly. My hand connects with a tablecloth, but I still go down, bringing the cloth with me...and sending a display of about two hundred tennis balls crashing to the ground. They go everywhere, bouncing around me as I try to right myself. I get to my feet, untangling from the tablecloth and almost go down again on one of the fucking tennis balls. They're still bouncing everywhere, the noise echoing through the mall.

I hear laughter and whip around and, sure enough, there they are. District 7 boy stands with his broken pipe held loosely in one hand dying of laughter at the sight of me and the mess I made. The girl looks less than amused. "Trying to sneak up on us?" She asks, her voice hard as nails.

"Um….No, I just…" I have no idea what to say. Instinct says beg for my life, but I know that won't work. Mercy doesn't belong in the Hunger Games.

"You just what?" Without waiting for an answer, she punches the boy on the arm. "Jordan, shut up. Go kill her." The boy sobers up quickly and scowls at her.

"Why don't you do it? I killed the last one."

"Pussy."

He glares at her and then rolls his eyes. "Fine, whatever." He takes a step forward and his foot hits a tennis ball. I'm out the door before he hits the ground. The girl's angry shout echos in my ears as I sprint down the mall. I need to get out of here. I vaguely process that it probably wasn't the best idea to go running at breakneck speed through the arena, but now wasn't the time for caution. I glance over my shoulder as I run and see them coming out of the sporting goods store at a full sprint. I need to lose them.

But they are fast. Really fast. And I'm starting to slow down already. I've never been very good at running. They're catching up with me now and I can see the murder in their eyes, blood leaking from the boy's temple where he must have cracked his head on the tile floor. I push harder. I can make it if I really try. I just need to lose them and then I'll be fine. It'll all be fine. The pipe catches me in the knee and, as I fall, I hope it'll be over quickly.


	2. Chapter 2

Mel

The girl isn't in very good shape. She starts off strong, but by the time Jordan drags his ass off the ground and we leave the sports store, she hasn't gotten far. Her pale, soft face glances back at us and I can see the fear radiating off it. She knows it's going to be over soon.

We head after her, but I let Jordan reach her first, jogging behind at a slower pace. There's no reason to tire myself out over this girl. Jordan seems to think differently, sprinting like she's somehow going to outrun us. He's probably still sore from his fall on the tennis balls. A bit of blood drips off his face as he runs and I accidentally step in it. Our partnership might be over soon then I had planned.

Jordan had been my younger brother's best friend in grade school back in District 7. They're four years younger than me so most of my interactions with him consisted of yelling at them to get out of my room and leave me alone. They had grown apart once they reached middle school, but it was still an unpleasant surprise when our names were pulled.

He had proposed a partnership on our way to the Capitol. It wasn't that unexpected. He's still young and small; there's no way he would last long on his own. I had accepted grudgingly. On one hand, it's nice to have a partner, someone to watch my back. But on the other hand? Before I got on the train, Justin had begged me not to kill his friend. If it came down to the two of us, I'd have to break my promise and drive Justin even further away. Although that's assuming Jordan doesn't turn on me first. He had caved the District 6 boy's head in a little too gleefully for my taste.

Jordan finally catches up to the girl and brings her to the ground with a jab of his pipe to the back of her legs. I catch up to them the second Jordan raises the pipe above his head. She had turned over on the ground, looking up at her death. I can't see Jordan's face with his back to me, but I can hear him laughing softy. The girl looks terrified and I think she's about to plead for her life, but then it's too late. Her face is covered in blood.

It takes me a moment to notice something isn't right. The girl's been spattered with red, but Jordan still hasn't brought the pipe down on her. I grab his shoulder and turn him to face me, but he stumbles and falls to one knee. There's an arrow sticking out of his chest and blood running out of his mouth. That's not good.

I look up and see them, a group of about five or six further down the hall. That really isn't good. One boy is holding a bow in his hand. I'm vaguely aware of Jordan falling forward and landing on the girl he was about to kill, but I can't take my eyes off the Careers heading towards us. I need to think, but my brain is frozen. They're far away still, on the other end of the long stretch of shops. There's still time to get away. I see the boy with the bow raise it and aim towards me. I need to move. Why aren't I moving?

Then I feel a hand on my arm. It's the girl we had just run down. "Run!" She yells at me and takes off in the other direction. That's enough to jump start me. I reach down and rip the pipe from Jordan's cooling hands and sprint as fast as I can back the way we had come. The arrow the boy had pointed at me flies by, three feet from my head.

I quickly catch up with the other girl and try to overtake her. If I can leave her behind then maybe the Careers will focus on killing her and I can get to safety. But it seems as if she's had a burst of adrenaline, even with the blow to the leg. Death is a powerful motivator I guess.

It doesn't matter though because the hall comes to an intersection. I choose left and she chooses right, the way Jordan and I had come barely fifteen minutes earlier. She's heading back towards the Cornucopia. I doubt she'll last long.

The new hall is exactly like the old one. I continue to run, trying hard not to wipe out on the slippery tile. After a few minutes, I risk a glance over my shoulder. It seems as if the Careers turned right, chasing easier prey. I slow down, but I don't stop moving. I need to get out of this area of the mall.

It had been a bad call to go this way during the Bloodbath. The ceilings were too low, corridors too narrow. The endless shops and hallways were confusing, like being in a maze. The Cornucopia had been the exact opposite. It had been in the center of a large atrium. Five stories of silver plated balconies encircled the massive area with escalators and glass elevators rising up to meet them. Between two of the elevators was a huge waterfall that fed a glittering pool at it's base. On the opposite side of the waterfall was the Cornucopia and, behind it, was the biggest television I had ever seen in my life. Everywhere was gold and silver and marble and illuminated by an enormous skylight that filled the entire ceiling. It was gorgeous. Well, at least before the killing started.

We had stayed for the beginning, keeping to the outskirts of the Cornucopia's atrium, grabbing a couple backpacks and the broken pipe. It had been the only weapon far enough away from the slaughter to risk grabbing. Still, the District 6 boy had tried to fight Jordan for it. He was much bigger and probably would have won had I not come up behind him and punched him as hard as I could in the back of the head. It hurt my hand a lot more than I thought it would, but it worked because a second later the boy no longer had a face. Jordan, exhilarated from his first taste of blood, had wanted to stay and join the Bloodbath. I told him he could stay, but that would be the end of our partnership.

Now I wish I could return, just to escape this labyrinth, but there's no going back now. I need to put as much distance between the Careers and myself as possible.

Not that they're the only ones to worry about. There are only six Careers, but there's at most fifteen other tributes to worry about too. In reality it's probably a lot less than that; the bloodbath always kills a ton of tributes. I vaguely remember the cannons sounding when Jordan and I were in the sports store, but we were too distracted by the rifle, and then the tennis ball explosion, to pay attention. I'll be able to see how many are left later tonight when they show the tributes.

Right now I need to find a home base and figure out a plan. There's no point in hunting down other tributes with just a pipe and the longer I stay out in the open, the easier it will be hunted myself. As if I had summoned it, the hall opens into another atrium, this one much smaller than the one at the Cornucopia. I'm on the second floor, but there's another silver plated balcony that looks down on the ground floor. I approach it cautiously, and peer over the side. There aren't any signs of life, but what really draws my attention is the restaurant across from me. It's huge, taking up two stories and is as wide as the entire chamber. From what I can see, the interior is dark and strange sounds echo from its depths. Trees and plants are everywhere. The greenery is different from what we have back in District 7, but tree are trees. It reminds me of home.

I cautiously ride the escalator down to the ground floor and, after looking down the halls that lead back into the mall, I sprint across the atrium and into the restaurant, under the sign reading _Rainforest Cafe_.

The restaurant is even larger inside than I had thought. Full grown trees stretch high over my head, creating a canopy so thick I can't even make out the ceiling. Large tanks of fish create archways and line the walls, throwing a blue shadow over the misty green plants. A bird flies past me and I jump a mile. There are real animals in here? I look closer at the trees and notice a squirrel jump from branch to branch. If it wasn't for the tables, I would think that I'm in a real jungle.

I laugh in spite of myself. This is perfect. I walk over a bridge that spans a small river of brown muddy water. I could hide here for days, weeks even. As long as I keep an eye on the door, I could hunt the animals, maybe craft a better weapon. This could work out. I still had a shot.

I spend the rest of the day sitting in a tree, eating berries and bananas that I had picked. The threat of the Games still weighs on my mind, but it's hard not to relax here. I'm starting to doze when I'm startled awake by the Panem anthem. I can't tell where its coming from at first, but then I see that the televisions behind the bar have switched on. I leave my perch and climb from tree to tree so I can get a better look.

Only one Career died, a boy named Sheen from District 1. More names and faces flick by, but they blur together a bit. I didn't have much contact with anyone other than Jordan in the Capitol. When Jordan's face pops up, I feel a twinge of guilt that I haven't really mourned him in any way. I hadn't wanted him to die so quickly, but there was a sense of relief to know I wouldn't have to kill him...and that he wouldn't go crazy and beat me to death in my sleep. Having a partner is too stressful, and I definitely don't need anymore stress in my life.

Ten tributes in total died on the first day. Surprisingly, the girl we had chased isn't one of them. Only Districts 2, 4, and 5 still have both tributes. District 9 is the only one to have both of their tributes killed. I feel like a part of me should be sad about the senseless waste of life, but I'm just glad I'm not one of them.

I make my way back to my tree. I've slept in my fair share of trees back in District 7, so this isn't anything new to me. From my vantage point, I have a decent view of the door just in case anyone tried to come in and surprise me, but for now the mall is quiet. I need to get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.


End file.
